Chaos Theory: Sarutobi Sasuke
by ImpracticalDemon
Summary: Sasuke races to Azuchi to rescue Chieko from the pain of a bad cold - and sixteenth century medicine. Mostly fluff and humour, with a hint of pining and a smidge of longing. Also, Mitsuhide. Mostly fluff; chapter 5 is definitely ns/fw and rated M.
1. Do You Have a Fever

**Author's Note:**

Sarutobi Sasuke, Ikemen Sengoku style: Astrophysicist, Ninja, BFF, always there when you need him most.  
I've been a fan of this character from the first time I picked up the game, but he doesn't yet have an English route. Consequently, all I can do is speculate.

His greatest opponent: butterflies. Why? Chaos theory.

Written for **Aiko** on tumblr. And myself.

~ Impracticaldemon

* * *

 **Do You Have a Fever?**

* * *

" _Shitsurei shimasu._ " **(1)**

Only one person ever requested admittance to my room from the ceiling. The fact that the visitor was also very polite about it was just extra confirmation.

"Hi Sasuke, come on in—or down! It's good to see you." There was a moment's silence, but none of the ceiling panels moved. I squinted upward through the grey gloom that passed for light just before dawn. "That is— _am_ I going to see you?"

"Yes."

Another few seconds passed, and my attempt to ask for further clarification turned into an uncontrollable sneeze. I've always hated summer colds, but having a cold is even _less_ fun when it's 1582 and there's no ibuprofen, no lotion-infused tissues, and no knock-you-out-until-you're-better fake-cherry-flavour syrup. To be fair, Ieyasu—meaning _the_ Tokugawa Ieyasu—had managed pretty well. His throat lozenges were first rate, although I got a little more careful after I asked about the ingredients. Unfortunately, opium was still cutting-edge medical technology in sixteenth century Japan.

The usual ceiling panel finally edged aside, and my favourite astrophysicist-ninja dropped silently into the room. He poured me a glass of water while I finished sneezing, and handed it over as soon as I was done. It was kind of him, but the fact that he wouldn't meet my eyes—or say anything—made me wonder.

"Um, Sasuke?" I coughed, and hastily swallowed some more water.

"I apologize, Chieko. I am aware that one should be more conversational when visiting a sick friend. However—" he cleared his throat, and I was tempted to offer him a cough drop. Then again, if he found out that it was from Ieyasu, he'd probably try to keep it in a special souvenir box until it dissolved into a puddle of opium-laced honey and herbs.

Sasuke tried again, still not meeting my eyes, or even looking in my general direction. "I assure you that I did not wish to be rude. However, I have been evaluating alternate methods for informing you of a slight, ah, wardrobe malfunction. I would have preferred not to embarrass you, but I am forced to employ the direct approach."

Naturally, I missed most of his last sentence, having quickly looked down to see what was wrong. As it turned out, my soft nightrobe had come partially loose from its ties—probably during the coughing fit that had woken me earlier—and there was a very noticeable gap down the center of my chest. The light shawl around my shoulders did little to cover the view. On top of that, perspiration had made the fabric cling to the little that was still semi-modestly concealed.

I could feel myself blushing as I quickly corrected the 'wardrobe malfunction'. Sasuke had tactfully gone to stand beside the window, with his back to me. While I put things right, and arranged the shawl more strategically, I promised myself to give up Ieyasu's cold remedies altogether. Only drugs could account for inviting Sasuke into the room without at least checking that I was decent. I snuck a quick peek in the small hand-mirror I had nearby, and concluded that while I was no longer a candidate for page three of a tabloid, I wasn't going to win any prizes for 'what to wear when a cute guy drops in from the ceiling'. Then again—but I put a quick lock on _those_ thoughts right away. Sasuke wasn't your average guy, and I was pretty sure he didn't realize he was cute.

"All set, Sasuke, sorry about that—I'm a little out of it with this cold." _And possibly the opium_. _Personally, I'm blaming Ieyasu's happy candies._ I kept it casual, figuring that would alleviate our mutual embarrassment. It's not like there'd been _that_ much on display, more that context was important with clothes, and this was Sengoku Japan, and I was sitting in bed. _I'll bet he's nice to cuddle with_ , suggested some part of my—probably drugged—brain. For obvious reasons, that particular 'little voice' sounded a lot like Mitsuhide to me these days. _Shut up Akechi_ , I snarled at it, _not helping._

Sasuke had turned around, and was looking at me very strangely.

"Did you just tell Akechi Mitsuhide to shut up?" he asked, his face as politely neutral as usual, but still—somehow—faintly puzzled. "Do you have a fever, Chieko?"

He looked very serious—or at least, that's what he managed to convey. Without warning, he put his left wrist to my forehead.

I stifled a yelp of surprise, and tried not to lean farther against his hand. My body, possibly goaded on by the Mitsuhide-voice, or just fatigue, disobeyed me. It was a nice hand, I thought, sinewy and a little calloused, but much stronger than it looked. I guess you had to be pretty strong to be a first-class ninja. I wondered vaguely—not for the first time—how he'd managed to make the transition from graduate student in physics to Uesugi Kenshin's top _shinobi_. Maybe he'd already been training just in case he ever made it to the Sengoku?

"I don't think you have a fever," Sasuke told me, his— _really very attractive, don't you think? Shut UP or I'll… fine, they're pretty nice_ —brown eyes surveying me closely, "but it's hard to tell. You do appear to be flushed, and rather shaky, both indicators of a febrile condition." He blinked at me from behind his glasses, then put both hands lightly on my shoulders to support me while he sat down. I was impressed by how gracefully he could attain a cross-legged position without allowing me to wobble.

 _Gracefully? Really? All he did was sit down. And don't pretend you didn't appreciate his legs and—_

"I have a headache," I said aloud, to drown out my own personal Mitsuhide. "But I wasn't feeling hot until"—the rational part of my brain suddenly fused in panic, aware a few moments too late that I was about to say something that could be misconstrued.

Sasuke waited politely for me to finish, then frowned a little.

"Chieko, did the castle pharmacist give you anything for your cold? I don't mean to be in any way less than complimentary—because I must agree with Lord Shingen that it is counter-productive to be ungracious when a lovely lady—excuse me, those were his words, I'm afraid—is already feeling under the weather—however, your pupils are a little dilated and—"

"Opium," I said firmly. I'd lost track of his sentence, but I'd gotten the gist.

"Oh."

"I guess there's no ibuprofen in the sixteenth century, huh?"

I'd been expecting the ninja-physicist version of "ha ha—no," but Sasuke suddenly looked visibly upset. It was unusual for his face to display such obvious emotion. His eyes slid sideways, and despite the uncertain lighting, I thought he was blushing.

"Sorry, Chieko. This is my fault."

I looked at him uncertainly. "It's your fault that they treat pain with alcohol and opium in Sengoku Japan?"

"Er, not that. Although it's been fascinating to find out that medical science is more advanced during this period than I'd expected." His eyes shifted back to me. "Which has been quite fortunate for me, of course. But that wasn't what I meant to tell you."

"Alright." I could feel fatigue creeping through my limbs, but somehow preferred to have Sasuke with me—even at literal arm's-length—than be alone in my futon. _So? Maybe you could change that?_ _NO! That's not what I meant!_ _It's just nice to have a friend around when you're sick!_ A distinctly Cheshire-cat smile below two gleaming yellow eyes seemed to float before me, and I instinctively batted at it, knocking Sasuke's glasses askew. "Argh! Sorry, Sasuke!"

"Um, no, that's fine. No harm done. But if I may ask—" he removed a hand from my shoulder in order to fix his glasses, which seemed to take him longer than usual—"has Lord Mitsuhide been bothering you? You keep mentioning him."

 _I did_? "No, no—well, not exactly."

"Lord Shingen says that—"

Before Sasuke could lose me in another three- or four-part sentence, I gave in to my inner Mitsuhide, and genuine fatigue, and let my head and body fall toward Sasuke. As expected, he moved immediately to catch me, ninja reflexes making up for the fact that he'd been looking away again when I toppled. I found myself rather comfortably cradled against his chest, with his arms around me and one hand gently supporting my head. He was warmer than I'd expected.

"…Sorry," I mumbled, not very sincerely. My head still hurt, and I was probably going to cough again sooner or later, but this was nice. Somewhere under the ninja tunic was a solid, well-muscled chest. Always a good thing in a physicist. You never knew when you'd need to wrestle with an interdimensional wormhole. Or be there for a sick friend.

"…Chieko?" His arms didn't move, which was encouraging. He obviously wasn't repelled by my weird behaviour. In fact, I could've sworn that his hand carefully brushed my cheek. I didn't feel inclined to go anywhere, so I let my eyes close all the way and snuggled closer. My inner voice remained silent, but I could tell it was smirking at me.

Sasuke appeared to at a loss as to what to do next, but somebody—probably Lord Shingen, based on what I'd heard so far—had obviously warned him not to jostle a sick woman who wasn't at her best. I silently thanked the absent enemy warlord for his assistance. And his absence. Because having Shingen in my room would quickly result in a lot of very sharp blades being much too close for comfort. A thought tickled at my sleepy brain. Sasuke, being a genius, put it into words.

"Chieko, I have to go soon. Lord Mitsuhide is quite adept at finding and disposing of enemy spies. Moreover, if I were found here, the Oda warlords might suspect you of betraying them, and turn against you. They might not understand that you are—that we are—that we're just friends with a common background. I don't want to compromise your safety. …Or fail in my duty to my employer, or course."

"I understand," I told him—or at least that's what I tried to say. It came out a little garbled. Plus, I may have been slightly put out by the bit about "just friends." Even though it was true. _And just fine. I mean, how well do we even know each other, right?_ I caught a glimpse of mocking yellow eyes and a hint of white hair, but no audio.

I felt warm breath against the top of my hair—it was very pleasant—and then something that might have been a very soft, feather-light kiss. My brain said it was accidental contact; my heart started to pick up speed. Unfortunately, Sasuke's voice didn't give away what he was thinking.

"I wouldn't have been so late, if it hadn't been for the—er, you know."

I tried to shake my head, but couldn't move. "No idea. The what?"

"...It doesn't matter. The point is that as soon as I heard you were sick, I requested vacation leave and came immediately. Hopefully, Lord Kenshin is being delayed by Yukimura and Lord Shingen. Lord Kenshin doesn't quite understand the concept of a vacation yet, although I'm working on him."

"You came all the way to Azuchi because you heard I was sick?" I was impressed with their spy system, but more interested in the personal aspects.

"…Yes. You see, I have a package of ibuprofen with me. It's four years old, but the seal's unbroken and I suspect it's fine. That's why I apologized. If I'd gotten here sooner, you might not have needed to take opiate-based medication. Or at least I could have warned you."

"That's okay," I said, generously. "I mean, come on, Sasuke, you just came all the way to Azuchi and snuck into an enemy castle to bring me Advil. That's pretty heroic in my book, even if you didn't get here as fast as you wanted. I'm sure the poppy-juice will wear off soon enough, so no harm done." _Except for my wardrobe malfunction, and the way I kind of not-so-accidentally fell over against you. And having Mitsuhide in my head._ The idea that my inner demons—or whatever—now manifested as Mitsuhide was a little disturbing. Then again, it would explain his tendency to read my mind.

Sasuke was silent. He seemed to be taking the whole 'Chieko on opium' thing a bit too hard. I decided to play my trump card, even though it might open up a can of worms. …Okay, that wasn't a sentence I ever wanted to share with anyone, especially Sasuke, but I knew what I meant and ignored the snicker from ol' yellow eyes. I turned a bit so that I wouldn't be speaking into my—that is _the_ —ninja's tunic.

"I know you're worried about me, and I really appreciate it, but you should know that Ieyasu created and compounded both medicines—the happy candies and the syrup—and he's considered one of the best pharmacists around."

Sure enough, Sasuke shifted in surprise, dislodging me slightly as he straightened his back and scanned the room as though his idol, Tokugawa Ieyasu, might be hiding behind my kimono rack. I expected him to use the opportunity to pry me loose and get me tucked into bed, but instead he pulled me back against his chest as soon as he noticed that I'd slipped. Naturally, I immediately wondered if I could read something into that. And did I want to? The strange drowsy-giddy feeling was wearing off, and I was starting to feel self-conscious.

"You know that I have the greatest respect for Lord Ieyasu," Sasuke said quietly. This was an understatement, but I was distracted by the fact that his voice wasn't far from my ear, and for some reason that thought was making me warmer than ever; I could feel my blush reaching my ears. Sasuke seemed oblivious. "However, I would feel very badly if you came to harm here, and the opiate medicines of this time are not safe. In fact, they remained largely unsafe right up to modern times, and even in our era they are highly addictive."

I was touched by the genuine concern in his voice, but also becoming increasingly aware that my upper body was practically glued against his, and I was only wearing a thin summer robe as nightwear. Sneezing on him would probably break the mood—if there was a mood—but other than a slight headache, I seemed to have improved quite a bit over the last half-hour. I wasn't sure whether to chalk it up to Ieyasu's medicine, or to the power of Sasuke's kindness. He was always kind, in an awkward, Sengoku-physics-ninja-geek sort of way.

"So, I guess I should take the good stuff, and let you get on your way." I sighed. Then I realized that I was sighing, and sat up a little straighter. Sasuke's arms immediately fell away, and when I glanced up at him, his face was as blank as usual. I thought there was a touch of red in his cheeks, but he immediately got busy fetching me more water and then handing over the pills.

"You can keep the package. We're going back in just a few weeks, and there aren't that many in there anyway." His tone was calm and uninflected, but something made me decide not to argue. After all, he'd refused to use even one throughout the four years he'd been here, and he must have gone through his share of pain and, presumably, illness.

Having dutifully taken the ibuprofen, I handed the water mug back to Sasuke. I tried not to show how lonely I suddenly felt, as he made sure that his gear was secure and cracked open the window screen to survey his exit path.

"So—why were you so late? You never did explain. I mean, now that I'm more with it, I can tell that you pushed it pretty close to the limit." It was true—the first rays of sunlight could be seen over the horizon, and Sasuke usually arrived and left when it was fully dark.

"Oh… that. I'll explain another time, okay? Stay safe, Chieko. I'll come visit next time I'm near Azuchi."

"Sure. Sounds good. And thank you! You're the best friend a time-travelling fashion designer could have." I smiled brightly at him, wanting him to go before he got caught, but also wishing he could stay.

"You're most welcome," Sasuke replied, swinging himself lightly to the very narrow window sill. Then he paused, muttered something inaudible, and hopped back down beside me. "One moment—your hair has caught on something." Very gently, he pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear. As far as I could tell, it hadn't been caught on anything, but I wasn't going to object. His fingers lingered on my ear for a few extra seconds—deliberately, I thought—and then he murmured a quick goodbye and was out through the window before I could respond.

I remained sitting up in bed sipping water for several minutes before my racing pulse calmed down enough to contemplate sleep. Just as I was making myself comfortable, somebody announced themselves at the door, and entered without waiting for my leave.

" _Ohayo_ , Chieko," Mitsuhide said brightly, surveying the room with a slightly mischievous air. His gaze lingered on the open screen, which I probably should have thought to close. "I'm surprised you have that open, given how unwell you've been. How are you?"

"Good morning to you too, Mitsuhide. I'm feeling a lot better this morning, thank you. Another day should see me completely recovered."

Nobunaga's left-hand man smiled at me. It was the smile of a man who knew just how to make it hurt, whether in fun or in deadly earnest. I tensed, waiting for the blow to fall. Mitsuhide didn't disappoint.

"I will let the others know that you've had a restful night." His yellow eyes shone a little in the dim room, as he gently added: "The power of young love never ceases to amaze, does it?"

 **[END]**


	2. The Oda Strike Back

**Author's Note:** The sequel to my first Ikesen Sasuke story (Do You Have a Fever?). Welcome to chapter 2. Chapter 2 still isn't ns/fw. Sorry. My 3000-word sequel turned into a 6500-word sequel and is now chapters 2 and 3. On the bright side: **Mitsuhide**.

Thank you to all for your support, kind notes, reviews, fun tags and so on!

 _~ Impracticaldemon_

* * *

 **The Oda Strike Back**

* * *

I didn't see Sasuke for over a week after _The Episode of the Wardrobe Malfunction_ (also playing in my embarrassing moments highlight reel as _The Day I Got High and Snuggled Sasuke_ ). A week wasn't actually very long, but I harboured deep suspicions that his buddy Yukimura was keeping him away with comments like, "You can't trust those wild boar women, Sasuke—show even a moment's weakness, and they're all over you."

Of course, that was probably unfair to both guys. Sasuke wouldn't tell even his BFF—Sasuke's term, employed with his customary lack of expression—about what had happened. Probably. And Yukimura and I got along pretty well now, except when his tactlessness got the better of my patience. _He just doesn't have my appreciation for your charming naiveté_ , noted my inner Mitsuhide, before I slammed the (mental) door on his comments.

In any event, whether it was Sasuke's gift of ibuprofen that helped me, or the unintentional snuggling, I got over my cold in record time, and then spent a week hoping to see my fellow time-traveler so that I could apologize for my behaviour. Inevitably, _certain people_ made a point of commenting on my occasional lapses of attention.

"How are you feeling today, Chieko?" asked Mitsuhide, his lips curving into what the naïve might call a smile. Apparently, he was spending some quality spymaster-conqueror time with Nobunaga this morning.

"Fine, thanks. Why do you ask?" I paused, politely handed Nobunaga his morning correspondence, and then added, "It was just a cold, and I recovered six days ago." I gave him my haughtiest don't-mess-with-me-this-morning look. A pointless effort, but he'd asked _every day_ since I'd—completely accidentally, and while under the influence of opium—pressed my aching head into Sasuke's surprisingly well-defined chest. For the record, Sasuke had done a fine job of holding on to me once I was there, so—

A soft huff of amusement from the white-haired Machiavelli of the Oda forces suggested that I might have inadvertently lost focus at a bad time. I glanced up at Nobunaga to see whether he'd noticed anything, but he appeared to be skimming through the letters I'd brought. I resumed my attempt at a withering glare, and tried to will away the ridiculous—and entirely uncalled for—blush that was creeping across my cheeks.

"I am merely concerned about the health of our dear chatelaine, after her recent illness." Mitsuhide's long, white lashes concealed the predatory gleam that no doubt lurked in his snaky golden eyes, but nobody was fooled.

"Perhaps; however, you _do_ keep asking." Nobunaga's incisive tones were curious, rather than annoyed, but they demanded a response. So much for my small hope that Azuchi's premier candy thief wasn't paying attention. "She doesn't look ill, Mitsuhide, she looks infatuated. Does it involve you in some way?"

 _What?!_

"I am _not_ infatuated with—with _anyone_!"

Mitsuhide ignored me. "Alas, I do not believe that I am the object of her desire," he lamented, with patently false regret. Nobunaga shot him an oddly appraising look, but his so-called left-hand man merely returned his usual slithery smile.

"Well, Chieko? If it's not an entanglement with Mitsuhide, then what is it?"

I kept my eyes on Nobunaga, unwilling to risk looking at The Bane of My Existence. A sudden idea skittered through my brain.

"I'm not entangled with anyone, Nobunaga. However, I must admit that my thoughts have turned to Mitsuhide quite often of late."

For once, if only for a fraction of a second, both men looked surprised.

"Really now?" Mitsuhide was suddenly beside me. "Do tell!" Now that he was looking down at me—and so close!—I felt just the tiniest bit apprehensive. He was a snake who preferred to play with his food before finishing it off. Sometimes I curse my powers of imagination.

I took a calming breath, and resisted the compulsion to look up into Mitsuhide's eyes. I addressed my reply to Nobunaga.

"You see, Mitsuhide has been like an _uncle_ to me"—I thought I saw a look of appreciation cross Nobunaga's face—"and recently I've found that he comes to mind when I am faced with a difficult decision."

"I see." Nobunaga managed to imply enjoyment without actually changing expression. Then his attention returned to his desk. "Mitsuhide, we have work to do."

"Of course, my lord." Mitsuhide's eyes were gleaming with mischief, and I suddenly felt a qualm or ten about my decision to poke back a little. A slender finger caressed my cheek in a way that was not at all avuncular; I was unable to fully suppress a shiver—of apprehension, mostly. _Only mostly? Good grief!_ "Good morning then, my dear Chieko. Rest assured that I will keep an even closer eye on you, now that I know how much you look up to me."

I managed a rather sickly smile as I left. _Baka! Idiot!_ _What the hell were you thinking? Mitsuhide Rule Number One: Do not, under any circumstances, try to play his game—_ any _of his games. You will lose, and not even the occasional, fleeting victory is worth it._

When I got back to my room, I decided to go down into the market instead of returning to work with the seamstresses as originally intended. Maybe I could find Yukimura, and warn him that Mitsuhide seemed to be uncomfortably aware of Sasuke's activities in and around the castle. When Inner Mitsuhide snickered at the word 'activities', I may have snarled aloud.

* * *

Unfortunately, Yukimura wasn't in his usual spot. My heart sank, although I tried to keep the disappointment off my face as I pretended to browse the wares in nearby shops and stalls. After half an hour of searching—and a rather convoluted walk around the market area—I was forced to admit how much I'd been hoping to see Sasuke again, and how worried I was that I might not see him again for a long time.

"Hsst, _ojō-san_! A moment of your time!" The words were pretty standard for both beggars and merchants, but the hushed tones made no sense. Plus, who used words like 'psst' and 'hsst' outside of old novels?

I was about to take a quick step back—strangers trying to kidnap me had been an issue in the past—when I realized that the stooped, oddly-dressed figure was the man I most wanted to see. He was wearing the traveler's traditional flat straw hat, and strange clothing, but it was Sasuke. My heart started to beat a little faster, and my attempt to play it cool failed miserably as I rushed headlong into the narrow, shadowed lane.

"Sasuke! I've"—one hand gripped my shoulder, and another pressed against my mouth, preventing further speech.

"Sorry Chieko, we need to get out of here. Okay?" Sasuke sounded apologetic, but didn't remove his hand until I nodded. His fingers seemed to linger on my face for a moment longer than necessary. A weird part of my brain replayed the sensation of Mitsuhide's mocking caress earlier, cataloguing similarities and differences. Then the hand on my shoulder slid down to close firmly over mine, and a giddy, swooping feeling in my stomach made me a little light-headed. I winced internally as I felt the goofy smile hit my face. _You are an independent, adult woman, not a fourteen-year-old with a crush!_ Despite my best efforts, Mitsuhide's smirk flashed across my mind, followed by Nobunaga's irritatingly knowing expression.

Sasuke was already moving by the time I got my head together, and I had to hurry to keep up with him. Despite his obvious anxiety to leave town quickly, his grip never tightened too far, nor did his pace increase beyond what I could handle in my kimono and sandals. For some reason, I could feel myself smiling again. _Pull it together, Chieko! He's just a considerate guy, not some kind of hero. I mean, you didn't see him for a week, and now he's dragging you off somewhere without an explanation! And you're_ happy _about it! (Mental eye-roll.)_

Out of nowhere, my usually quiescent—more like comatose—romantic self downed a few shots of espresso, sat up, and took umbrage. _And how many considerate guys have you actually_ met _in the last couple of years? Right? So shut up!_ I had a point, I conceded, blithely going where I was tugged.

Actually, Mitsunari was often considerate, if not always helpful. And Hideyoshi could be very considerate, once you got past his—let's be honest—obsession with Nobunaga, and if you didn't mind Extreme Fussing™. Masamune was a good guy—and a great cook—despite living life at twice normal speed. In fact, they all had their own ways of being kind, even Mitsuhide, although his version was subtle, and usually involved him entertaining himself at your expense while helping you. _Fine,_ noted my romantic self, now sipping gently at a mild green tea with lemon, _but you're not holding hands with any of_ them.

We traversed several of Azuchi's less pleasant lanes and back-streets, before emerging onto a footpath leading across a meadow toward a not-too-distant wood. It was a beautiful day, and bright flowers were scattered throughout the waving grasses. Sasuke came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the meadow, and I careened into his back. He automatically helped me to regain my footing, but his eyes remained fixed on some point ahead of us—at least, the glint of sunlight off his half-concealed glasses suggested that he was staring at something.

"Um—Sasuke?"

"I'm fine. Just don't move."

I still couldn't understand what was wrong, but I did my best to obey, a little relieved to get a break from trying to hurry in _geta_. I continued to peer around Sasuke's side—though without moving too much. The grip on my hand tightened a little, and my companion looked down at me and then away.

"We'll have to go around. I'm sorry about this—it will be slightly harder for you underfoot."

"Sasuke, what are we going around?"

His expression didn't change, but his cheeks and neck reddened a little. Was he embarrassed? His expression was as difficult to read as ever, especially since his upper face was in shadow under his straw hat.

"…Could we discuss that later? Right now we have to get under cover. Though it was clever of you to lose them back in the market."

"Lose _who_?" I demanded, starting forward a little reluctantly this time.

"Lord Mitsuhide's agents. I thought that was why you travelled so randomly around the market area."

I was stuck on the first part.

"Agents? Mitsuhide's _agents_?"

"My hypothesis was erroneous, it seems."

We were moving again, but a little more slowly than before. The grasses in this area had been regularly scythed, and there were no flowers. There wasn't so much a path as a wide, rather barren field that appeared to go on all the way to the trees in the middle distance.

"I guess so—that you were mistaken. I have no idea what's going on." I was momentarily distracted by a different question. Or maybe I just had too many things to think about at once and fixed on something irrelevant. "I wonder why this area is all grass? I hadn't thought about it before, but it's like this all the way around the town, pretty much. Not short and hard-packed like this, but you know what I mean." _You're babbling, dear._ _Yeah, I'd noticed, thanks._

Sasuke's grip loosened a little, as though he appreciated the break from more difficult subjects (whatever they were). Naturally, he knew the answer to my not-quite-question.

"Most castle towns are like this—in Europe as well as Japan, from what I've read. You don't want an army to be able to creep up on your castle or castle town. So you cut down the forest around the town. The area we're crossing now is where the Oda forces drill. That's why it's so hard underfoot, and the grass has bare patches."

"They've been at war for a long time, haven't they? All of them, I mean." After two months, I'd finally gotten my head around it, but sometimes the whole Warring States thing really hit me.

"Yes. Over a hundred years already—so not just the existing warlords, but their fathers and grandfathers and so on. It was a terrible time, but…" Sasuke slowed, and I knew without looking up that his expression had become both more animated and a little distant.

"But there were some brilliant and wonderful people?" I asked softly, not wanting to break this brief sense of being _outside_ all of the bloodshed and disaster. I could pretend to be out on a summer walk with a friend, just chatting—for no apparent reason—about historical Japan. _Do you always hold hands with your friends? No—now go away, you're interrupting my fantasy. …Which involves holding hands with a Sengoku fanboy named after a famous, but probably fictional ninja?_

"Yes, exactly," said the fanboy in question. For a moment, I couldn't recall which question he was answering, and just stared at him blankly. "…Chieko?"

We were almost at the edge of the wooded area, but Sasuke stopped and peered at me as though trying to figure out why I'd stopped working. I found myself holding my breath, keenly aware of just how close he was now that we were facing each other. He still had my hand, and my imagination was starting to get the better of me.

"I was just thinking things over," I said hastily, trying to ignore the fact that he looked adorable, even in the ridiculous straw hat. _Wait—seriously? Adorable?_

"I see. It's true that there's a great deal to consider. For my part, although I can't condone the way in which violence is used as the first—and often only—approach to dispute resolution, I have come to greatly respect the warlords with whom I've served, even beyond my pre-existing, quite considerable admiration. I suspect that they are all suffering from various mental health issues, but despite this, they seem more alive, more vibrant, than most of the people I know back home."

I found myself nodding at his words, and saw his lips curve into his rare, rather shy smile. My heartbeat sped up further. "I'm glad we can talk about things like this, Chieko," he told me earnestly. "I mean, I realize that you are the only other time traveller here—that I know of—but, just for the record, I consider myself fortunate that you were the person who was inadvertently trapped here with me."

"Oh…" I managed feebly. Was that some kind of confession, or was Sasuke just that oblivious?

There was a short, possibly awkward silence. Then Sasuke's eyes went very wide behind his glasses, and he quickly took a half-step backward, letting go of my hand. This time the blush was unmistakeable.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean—that is, we should keep going. This is all because of the—of them—being in the way when you were sick. Chaos rides on their fluttering wings. I should have known that something like this would happen."

Sasuke's last two or three sentences were muttered under his breath and largely incomprehensible to me. I had the impression that I wouldn't have understood even if I'd heard him properly.

We slipped under the shade of the trees just a few minutes later, and Sasuke took off the hat and peasant's kimono he'd used as a disguise—principally for changing his outline, he explained, although the hat was also useful for concealing his glasses (less reflected light off the lenses). Before I could ask any questions, he told me that we were "almost there," and moved silently away. His cheeks were no longer red, but he still wouldn't meet my eyes.

Despite Sasuke's assurances, it took another twenty minutes to reach our destination. Yukimura was waiting at the door of a small wooden hut, looking just about as twitchy and irritable as I was starting to feel. My sandals were pretty, but not appropriate attire for hurrying over rough ground, or through the woods. And my sore feet were the least of my worries.

"Sasuke! Where the hells have you been, moron?! You were supposed to be back here an hour ago—at least!"

"I'm sorry I'm late," Sasuke replied calmly, pausing to exchange a complicated fist bump that looked distinctly out-of-place in Sengoku Japan. "Things came up."

"What's that supposed to mean? You said you needed to tell Chieko about some stuff and then we could go. Have you even told her anything yet?"

"Hi Yukimura, nice to see you again," I said politely.

"Right—hi. I'm afraid we've got go now. Akechi's really turned up the heat in the last few days, since Sasuke's last mission went wrong _somehow_."

They were returning to Kasugayama? For good? I brushed away a sudden—and totally excessive—sense of disappointment. And something went wrong with Sasuke's last mission? Anything involving Mitsuhide was potentially dangerous.

"Sorry, I really don't know what's going on. Sasuke kind of grabbed me from the market and now we're here." I gave Yukimura my best innocent bystander look. He frowned, but it wasn't the scowl that I used to get. His eyes flicked over to Sasuke, and I sensed something like concern. I was impressed with the lack of eye-roll.

"Well? Do you need a bit more time? As long as you didn't accidentally lead anybody here—"

"I didn't." Sasuke's reply was unusually terse.

"Okay, fine. Just remember that everyone makes mistakes, even you, so—"

"I have never assumed that I am infallible, Yukimura. However—"

"Then stop beating yourself up for making one mistake, okay? It's annoying. Besides, we had to leave now anyway, as it turns out."

"…I understand."

This time, Yukimura did roll his eyes, but I couldn't blame him. What was going on with Sasuke?

"Alright, I'm heading out. You, uh, explain things to Chieko, then catch up to me." He gave me a quick nod, and a wry smile. "See you 'round, Chieko. Don't run off any cliffs after we've gone, okay?"

"Sure thing, Yukimura." My return smile wasn't feigned—it was an old jibe, and the guy _had_ saved my life. "Look after yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Although—" Yukimura hesitated, then shook his head. "It's just weird, you know? The people I need to watch out for most are your buddies on the Oda forces. And vice versa." The last was said with chilling sincerity.

"As I explained before," interposed Sasuke, "Chieko values personal friendships above the feudal ties of lord and vassal. She wants everyone to be safe."

Yukimura just shook his head—at me, at Sasuke, at life in general. "That's not how it works. But—hope you can stay out of the worst of it, Chieko. See you soon, Sasuke. No offence to Chieko, but we've got some feudal ties to honour. And Lord Kenshin won't go easy on you if you're late."

"I am aware of the value that Lord Kenshin places on loyal service. I will rendezvous with you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?! You're using weird words again, but _tomorrow_? We're due back—"

"ASAP. I know. But I have a few more loose ends to tie up."

There was a brief stare-off, then Yukimura shrugged. "It's your neck. Literally."

On that valedictory—and ominous—note, Yukimura turned and strode off. He navigated the undergrowth without difficulty, the sword on his hip and spear on his back as comfortable and familiar as his tunic and trousers. All at once I felt like I was seeing Sanada Yukimura the warlord, rather than Yukimura, Sasuke's merchant friend.

* * *

 **[END]**

* * *

 **A/Note:** Stay tuned for chapter 3, where things get _decidedly more risqué_! Okay, but Sasuke is just an overachieving cinnamon-roll and I heart him.


	3. Chaos Theory

**Author's Note:** We have finally reached some nsfw-ish material here in the third installment of Ikesen Sasuke & Chieko (my own MC). Guess we need an Epilogue ^^. Definitely on the steamy side.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Chaos Theory**

* * *

A full minute passed in silence. Sasuke seemed to be listening intently, and I had no idea what to say.

"He's gone," he said at last. "I value Yukimura's friendship very highly, of course, but he is not aware that I am here as a result of a temporal phenomenon. Since it may be difficult for me to contact you in the near future, I thought we should talk about our upcoming trip to Kyoto to await the wormhole." Sasuke looked at me directly for the first time since we'd entered the woods. "I apologize for dragging you away from Azuchi without a proper explanation. However, as Yukimura indicated, the town is dangerous for me at present. Let's go inside—I expect that you'd like to sit down after all that."

The inside of the hut was very tidy. Sasuke glanced around and nodded to himself.

"Yukimura doesn't fully appreciate that we need to leave this place looking a lot more unkempt. It needs to appear to be untenanted."

"Sasuke. Talk. Now." I found a couple of blankets to kneel on, and waited pointedly for him to join me.

He delayed only long enough to fetch me a cup of water—which I needed—and then sat down across from me. The silence was deafening. Finally, Sasuke began.

"Lord Mitsuhide saw me traverse the roof leading away from your room."

I'd expected something like that, and gestured for him to continue. Then a thought struck me. "How do you know?"

"Because he shot at me. From a window not too far from your room." Sasuke's face and voice were as calm as ever.

"Shot at you! Are you hurt? Did he hit you?"

"Lord Mitsuhide is known for his outstanding skill with a rifle."

"So that's a yes. Why didn't I hear the shot? No, never mind—I was pretty out of it, and it doesn't matter. I'm so sorry, Sasuke! Where were you hit? Does it still hurt?"

Sasuke was looking at me strangely, and I took a deep breath in order to calm down.

"Chieko… While I appreciate your concern, it was just a scratch. It's healing—"

"It happened because you took a foolish chance bringing me medicine—for a _cold_ —when it was too close to sunrise! And then you stayed too long because I—" My voice tailed off, as I recalled what had happened.

Sasuke was staring off to side again, the telltale red on his cheekbones visible in the sunlight filtering in through the slatted screen covering the one window. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Guilt was replaying possible unhappy scenarios in my head.

"We were going to have to move soon anyway," he said at last. "Don't you see? There was already a problem."

"How so?" I demanded. Sasuke had never seemed to have any trouble sneaking into my room in the past. He'd always brushed off the possibility of being caught. Being shot at had never crossed my mind.

"Lord Mitsuhide uses a flintlock rifle, correct? His own particular weapon, but it still needs powder, shot, tamping, and a flame. Also, does he really carry a rifle with him all the time? He's a daimyo allied with Lord Nobunaga—surely a samurai of his stature carries at least one sword?"

I was still upset over the whole Mitsuhide-shooting-Sasuke scenario, but Sasuke's calm voice was getting through to me. His point wasn't particularly reassuring, however.

"Actually, Mitsuhide _does_ carry his rifle with him a lot of the time. Not for especially formal affairs, of course. But… you think Mitsuhide was lying in wait for you?"

"More or less," replied Sasuke, a little evasively. "He's been trying to catch me for some time, but until recently he was preoccupied with finding the monk Kennyo. Plus, I kept him focussed on my activities in town. I think he recently determined that I was in the castle from time to time, but he hadn't quite figured out how."

Sasuke stopped there, but I could see what he was trying to leave out.

"But then you arrived late, and the sky was already too light for safety. Somebody saw you and alerted Mitsuhide. Sasuke, that was reckless! You _knew_ that Mitsuhide was looking for you! What were you thinking?!"

"I was—" Sasuke stopped. I wasn't sure why, until I followed the direction of his eyes and discovered that I'd leaned forward and wound both of my hands around one of his.

"Oh! Sorry!" I tried to lift my hands, but Sasuke's free hand came down to keep them in place. He wasn't quite as cool as his appearance would suggest, either. The fingers that wrapped around mine weren't perfectly steady. On the other hand, I also felt strength and warmth and… an emotion that was deeper and more complicated than simple liking.

"Don't be sorry—for this or for the fact I ran into a little trouble with Lord Mitsuhide. I was worried about you. I had one or two less than ideal experiences with sixteenth century medicine, when I first arrived, and"—he smiled at me again, and my stomach did that strangely happy falling-off-a-building swoop—"I didn't have _Tokugawa Ieyasu_ acting as my personal pharmacist. Besides, it was entirely my own fault that I was late. Today as well."

"Well I _am_ sorry—you got hurt while trying to help me, and I didn't even know." I felt tears prickle at my eyes, the reaction once again disproportionate to the situation.

Sasuke's face regained its usual stoic-serious expression, and his eyes dropped back to our linked hands. Whether from nerves, or some other impetus, he began to run his thumb along the soft underside of one of my wrists. I heard my breath hitch in surprise, as sensation flooded outward from my wrist, and warmth pooled in my lower abdomen. I think my toes curled a little. _When did we go from acquaintances, to friends, to_ this? _What_ is _this?_ A familiar, but muted voice laughed softly, calling me out for pretending ignorance. Yellow eyes gleamed for a moment in my mind, reflecting Mitsuhide's amusement from this morning, and then vanished.

The stroking motion stopped, and I barely repressed a protest.

"Um, Chieko? Is this… acceptable? I hope you'll believe me that I did not intend to take any advantage when you were sick and influenced by opium. I know I should have said something sooner. Lord Shingen told me to express my true feelings as soon as possible—although I didn't mention your name, of course. He did his best to teach me. Unfortunately, I seem to find emotions more difficult to understand than both ninja training and the theory of high-energy time-space anomalies. Plus, you were surrounded by the most powerful men of the time—other than Lord Kenshin and Lord Shingen, which was likely just as well—and it didn't seem realistic to even consider…" He stopped. "Sorry. That was neither as logical nor as cogent as I had intended. Or at all. In fact, I'm not sure if I've actually said what I wanted to say."

I was still processing the fact that we'd crossed an invisible line at some point that would be difficult to uncross—not that I wanted to. My brain was only working at one-quarter speed.

"Sa-suke?" I shook my head as if to dislodge cobwebs, then did my best to meet his— _warm brown with a hint of amber—_ eyes. "It's definitely _acceptable_. But—did you really talk to Shingen? I only met him once, but he managed four pick-up lines in four sentences. And—I still don't know exactly what happened today, or a week ago." I tried to smile encouragingly, but it got away from me and turned into another goofy grin.

Sasuke went back to caressing my soft inner wrist; he seemed unaware of the effect it was having on me, but then again, he was trained to be observant. I felt my knees weakening.

"If I may clarify," he said, "did you agree to go out with me? Did I even ask you out?"

"Not in so many words. But the intent was clear."

"I see. I will have to work on my communication skills." He gently extricated his hands from mine, and carefully pulled me against his chest, wrapping both arms around me once I was settled. I could hear his heart hammering in his chest, which was a relief—I didn't want to be the only to feel like that. A moment later, a very chaste kiss was pressed into my carefully braided hair. My resolution to find out more about the situation with Mitsuhide—and more about whatever had delayed Sasuke both today and last week—faded abruptly. I'd find out in due course.

"I've occasionally wondered," commented Sasuke, whose mildly calloused fingers were now tracing a slow line down my neck and then along the soft skin above my collarbone, "whether glasses are an impediment to kissing." He added hurriedly, "Not that I mean to pressure you into anything, of course. We _have_ only been going out for a few minutes, after all. From those few relationships that I have observed among my colleagues, it does not appear to be a significant problem."

"Um…. No… Sasuke?"

"Yes, Chieko?"

"You could just ask, you know."

Sasuke's fingers stopped, which was disappointing, but then he used them to push my chin up a little.

"Are you sure about this?"

"When in the Sengoku…"

"They do tend to live in the present."

"I'm not saying that I don't take this—us—seriously. I don't think I'll ever be interested in casual kissing—or whatever."

"Speaking for myself," Sasuke's fingers returned to my collarbone and trailed up toward my mouth, "I don't think I'm capable of a, um, non-serious relationship."

"Mmmm." How could a sober astrophysicist-turned-ninja affect me like this? His fingers caressed my neck almost possessively, and I could feel the sparks travel the length of each limb. He hesitated when his index finger reached my mouth, and somehow I couldn't resist reaching out with my tongue to touch it.

"Ah!" Sasuke jolted upright, face suffused with red. Fortunately, his outstanding reflexes saved us from anything either too embarrassing, or too painful—his hand cushioning my head prevented a hard knock against the packed-earth-floor.

"Sorry!" "Sorry, Chieko!"

Our apologies rang in unison. We both tried for rueful smiles, which quickly faded in a rush of much warmer feelings. Without further hesitation, Sasuke bent his head and kissed my lips, pulling my body closer against his and burying his hand even further into my hair. We tasted each other's lips, and then tongues, barely pausing to breathe, entirely unaware of the floor beneath us. I felt like all my nerves were on fire.

The glasses weren't much in the way, I suppose, but they disappeared early on. He really did have beautiful eyes. When Sasuke eventually pulled his mouth from mine, his expression fevered, it was only to press kisses against my eyelids, and then down my neck, his body draped partially across mine, chest to chest. I wanted to do more, loving the sensation of his lips and teeth on my neck and then, with more intensity, along my collarbone—it barely registered that he must have pushed my kimono and under-kimono collars aside in order to bare it. I found his free hand clenched into the folds of my kimono, perhaps to keep it from wandering too far. I loosened its grip, and lifted it to my lips, kissing and then suckling each of the four fingers in turn. Sasuke was trembling by the time I was done, but he persisted in putting one more love bite on the lower edge of my right collarbone. My own body was shaking with need, and all I could do was cry out softly and then recapture his mouth when he was done.

The heat between us was almost unendurable, but we were too much creatures of the twenty-first century to give full rein to passionate inclination. Somehow, at some point, the feverish, panting kisses became more restrained, and then Sasuke dropped his head to my shoulder, muttering in desire-roughened tones: "We need to stop. It's too soon. It wouldn't be right. I'm so—"

I sealed his mouth with a last, gentle kiss, although it took everything I had not do something to test his restraint. "Why are you apologizing?"

"Well…" Sasuke pulled himself into a sitting position, and helped me to do the same. At first he couldn't take his eyes off me, and I could only imagine how I looked, with my collar pushed aside and my skin bruised by his teeth. Then he quickly averted his eyes, as though another second more would push him past his limits. There was actually very little showing compared to the previous week's wardrobe _issue_ , but despite remaining fully-clothed, we'd managed to imprint at least the _feel_ of our aroused bodies on each other. That had only made it more difficult to stop, but we had—a decision I questioned for the next several days.

We tidied ourselves in silence, although it wasn't nearly as awkward as I'd dreaded. Sasuke even showed a surprising familiarity with the niceties of female fashion as I strove to assemble and place the bits and pieces that had fallen from my obi and hair. In an effort to shove all the unsatisfied passion aside so that we could face each other with reasonable equanimity, he explained his expertise:

"It's nothing, really. I was allowed to train with some of Lord Shingen's special shinobi, many of whom are women. I found it to be both informative and insightful."

I watched as he placed a pretty obi pin with careful precision, and pouted—for effect, of course.

"Is there anything that you _aren't_ good at, Sasuke?"

He paused, decided that I was probably joking, and smiled a little.

"Quite a few things. But if I have to name one, then… I can't sew very well. Well enough to get by, because that's expected when you're out in the field, but I have no talent and very little practice."

"Of course you pick the one thing I can do well."

"True."

"Okay. I saw you wince when you sat up just now. Where were you shot?"

"On the roof of Azuchi Castle," Sasuke deadpanned.

"Haha. Now spill."

"I have a five centimeter wound diagonally across my left lower ribs. I had it stitched—after I verified that the needle and thread were as sterile as possible. It's uncomfortable, but healing well. Presumably, I moved in time."

I stared at him. It sounded as though Mitsuhide had been aiming to kill.

"Don't worry, I won't let it happen again. To be fair to Lord Mitsuhide, his orders were 'dead or alive', and it's a well-known fact that Kenshin's ninja suicide rather than allow capture."

My stare shifted into a glare, and Sasuke had the grace to look away uncomfortably. Then he looked back, came closer, and resolutely put his arms around me, inclining his head so that he could rest it against mine.

"I can't believe you said yes. Thank you. I don't show it well, but I'm insanely happy right now."

"I can't believe you can kiss like that," I told him honestly. Sasuke started to turn red all over again.

"I could have chosen a nicer place to kiss you for the first time. And… things are going to be a little complicated from now until we leave."

"You're trying to tell me that I won't be able to see you anytime soon."

"I'm trying to remind myself. I wish I hadn't let Lord Mitsuhide see me. I should tell you, though—I'm not sure he was trying very hard."

"But!"

"I know. And maybe I'm wrong. But he tagged me across my left side, and at the time, I had a one-handed grip with my right. Also, I was already halfway down."

"You climbed down the entire second half of the castle roof _with a gunshot wound?!_ "

"The options weren't attractive."

I sighed.

"You know, it's crazy to say this after—well everything that's happened—but I'm actually going to miss this place."

"So will I. But it's safer where we live, even apart from the small matter of continuous war."

"I know. Food, medicine, medical treatment, drinking water, everything."

"Anime."

"Anime doesn't make it safer!"

"Can we agree that _anything_ is a healthier outlet for aggression than war?"

"Yes." I leaned into his shoulder, avoiding the left side. "Sasuke…"

"I'll be here until tomorrow morning. I really do need to look after some loose ends."

"Wait—that sounded like 'see you later, Chieko,' but you still haven't told me what started all this—what made you late on the day you brought the medicine."

"…I blame Ray Bradbury."

"Who?"

"An American science fiction author best known for writing _Farenheit 451_ about living in a society that burns books. Paper burns at 451 degrees Farenheit—let's see, that's about—"

"Sasuke! Focus!"

I'd never seen Sasuke look so uncomfortable, which after the past week was saying something.

"Bradbury also wrote a story called _A Sound of Thunder_. About time travel, actually. The story talked about how the smallest change can be drastically far-reaching. He mentioned a—a butterfly." Sasuke said the last word very quietly.

"Oh"—a bunch of formerly trendy pop science news somehow found its way to the front of my brain—"that's the 'butterfly effect', right? It's something to do with chaos theory, if I'm remembering properly."

"Correct. The butterfly effect became synonymous with chaos theory. One beat of those little, fluttery wings, and poof! There goes another chunk of a South Pacific island, in the wake of some massive hurricane."

"And this has to do with—"

"Can I tell you next time?"

"Sasuke." I looked up into his caring—maybe even loving?—brown eyes, and relented. "Alright. Please—just take care of yourself. I—you mean a lot to me. I'm glad I finally got to tell you—and show you."

"You mean a lot to me as well, Chieko. You've always come first for me, here in the Sengoku, no matter what."

"I guess I have to see myself home now?"

"Yes—but I'll go as far as the edge of the trees."

Hand-in-hand, and companionably quiet, we walked until we could see raw sunshine beyond the next set of trees. Sasuke stopped, wrapped me in a tight hug, and kissed me as though we'd been together for a year, not an hour.

"Remember—"

"I'll be careful," my ninja promised me. "No matter what, you come first."

"I'll be ready when you send word about the wormhole. But I'll look for you before that."

"You never know."

"Nin nin."

There was a whisper of cloth as he released me, and then he was gone. He was an excellent ninja. I had high hopes that we might discover other skills of his together.

* * *

 **[END]**

* * *

 **A/Note: Notes, reviews, and comments are always welcome. This story will be published on Tumblr, FFN, and AO3.**

 **Thank you for reading! \\(^u^)/**


	4. The Price of Indiscretion

**Author's Note:**

This one-shot about Sarutobi Sasuke of the Ikemen Sengoku universe quickly became a 3-chapter story. After a short hiatus, I bring you chapter 4. Except... this is really Chapter 4, Part I. Part II is almost done.

Thank you to everyone who continues to read and follow the strange twists and turns taken by my various plot bunnies.

~ Imp

* * *

 **Chapter 4—The Price of Indiscretion**

I walked back through town in a daze, fighting to keep a goofy smile off my face. The guy I'd finally figured out I liked—thank you, Ieyasu happy candies—turned out to like me back. I winced at my own phrasing. _Do you have to sound so_ high school _about it?_ Okay, I was falling for a genius ninja-astrophysicist with a geeky sense of humour, a self-described inability to emote, and a predilection for smoke bombs and home-made caltrops. _You find him adorable. When did this happen?_ He was also kind, surprisingly thoughtful, and very brave; he managed his sword-happy boss and did a tough, scary job without either flinching or shirking. _That is seriously sappy. Do you even_ hear _yourself?_ Okay, so there wasn't a lot of _falling_ left to do.

On top of the excessive mushiness, the faint sting when my under-kimono rubbed against certain darkening marks on my collarbone was rousing an unexpected ache to be held and fiercely kissed in the same way again. There was an embarrassing rush of heat every time my mind replayed certain parts of the last hour, and the physical impression left by strong fingers and a hard, muscled body had changed—or at least sharpened—my mental image of Sasuke. _Okay, either calm down or go find a bucket of cold water; this is ridiculous._ I hoped people would attribute my flushed face to the afternoon sun.

Mind you, it wasn't ideal to find myself emotionally invested in a guy that the people I lived with wanted to kill. I'd been there for Nobunaga's "dead or alive" order—though they'd been more interested in Yukimura—and Sasuke was an enemy spy. There was nothing funny about a gunshot wound that _might_ have been an intentional miss. I'd always worried about Sasuke's well-being, but now my fear for his safety had shot up drastically. It was as if I'd been suppressing anxiety along with my not-so-platonic feelings, and now it had all gotten loose.

And what if this was just a caught-up-in-danger-together kind of romance? Did we have anything in common? _Other than an obvious desire to take each other's clothes off? Hard to say, really._ My sarcastic inner voice had morphed back into Mitsuhide, and he was smirking at me.

When I reached the gates to the main courtyard of Azuchi Castle, I stepped off to one side to pull myself together. It wouldn't do to run into one of the Oda warlords in this state. They were difficult enough to hide things from when I wasn't flustered, not to mention incurable gossips.

"Feeling a little overheated, are we?" inquired a soft, insinuating voice right next to my ear.

"AAAAAAHHH!" Okay, I'd obviously gotten too immersed in my thoughts, but still! "Mitsuhide, what is your _problem_?! Couldn't you just say hello from a distance like a normal person?" I took a half-step back and glared up at him, trying to bring my heart-rate back under control. He must have been standing in the shadow of the gate, which meant he'd watched my entire, dawdling approach.

"My problem?" Citrine eyes—located far too close for comfort—gleamed under improbably long white lashes. "I was merely concerned to see you looking so bothered by the warm weather—you're extremely flushed, you know." Somehow, he had closed the distance again without appearing to move. "How _was_ your stroll, by the way? Maybe the difficulty is that you went a little too far? That can be dangerous in times like these. Especially if you're with the wrong person." For the second time that day, his fingers caressed my cheek, and I couldn't quite repress a shiver. It was annoying. Fortunately—sort of—his threatening insinuations broke the snaky hypnosis. What was he up to? Were his spies tracking Sasuke even as we spoke? I forced myself to take a calming breath.

"First of all, take your hand off me. Second, what are you talking about?" As usual, my glare failed to ruffle Mitsuhide's smug expression in any way, but he did remove his hand, though not before allowing his fingertips to brush along the side of my neck. I did my best to ignore the physical sensations, and was distinctly relieved that the skin there was unblemished.

As if reading my mind—as usual—Mitsuhide gave me a thin smile before commenting, "Well, I see that you have at least some _tiny_ measure of discretion."

I tried to look innocently confused, but probably failed. I had no idea how much he knew—though the smart money was on "too much"—or _how_ he knew—I hypothesized dark magic—but if his aim was to be intimidating, then it was working. Seductively _intimidating, though. No! Just creepy. Think creepy_. Inner Mitsuhide snickered at me. How did I even end up with two inner voices?

The real Mitsuhide was frowning, however. "We should go in," he said abruptly, smugness replaced by something colder and even harder to interpret than usual. "You are too transparent to be allowed out in public, Chieko. Come along."

He turned on his heel and walked off toward the castle, and for a moment I contemplated flight. I was a pretty decent runner, as my hosts had found out the night I'd arrived. On the other hand, my feet were sore, and I had a shrewd suspicion that I wouldn't enjoy the result. In the end, I gave into fate—at least temporarily—and stalked after Mitsuhide.

"The scowl doesn't suit you," he commented, dropping back to walk beside me. "But I suppose it's an improvement over that saccharine expression from before."

I feigned deafness, and managed not to respond.

A few minutes later, we were in my room. At least, we were in a room with my things in it, but it wasn't the same room I'd woken up in this morning. I stopped just two steps in, apprehension starting to get the better of irritation again.

"Mitsuhide?" I turned.

He was closing the shoji door behind us, and I found myself looking pretty much straight into his chest. Before I could move away, he had one of my wrists in a grip of steel.

"Young love is a beautiful thing—or so I'm told—but fraternizing with the enemy is either very unwise, or very ill-mannered. Now I, personally, believe you to be just as foolish and naïve as you appear, but have you considered the feelings of our beloved, over-protective Hideyoshi? Or the fact that Masamune is extremely dangerous—and wholly pragmatic—when it comes to safe-guarding the lives of his men? He's also quite astute, by the way, and notices more than people think. Ieyasu, of course, is both highly intelligent and always suspicious."

"Mitsuhi—"

"Just be quiet, little Chieko, I'm not done."

I dislike being ordered around and threatened as much as the next woman, but this didn't seem to be the right time to go into that. I stopped trying to interject, and focused on staying alert without panicking. I still had no idea where Mitsuhide was going with any of this.

"Naturally, as a loyal ally of Lord Nobunaga, I am under an obligation to either kill or capture any enemy of the Oda forces, especially such formidable foes as Sanada Yukimura and the ninja who has eluded us for over a month now. More importantly, I do not care to see my own work overset by allowing a spy to return to his master with information about us. However, the others are _fond_ of you, and I do not wish to distress them unnecessarily."

He paused, tipped my face up with the hand that wasn't gripping my wrist, and smiled at me sardonically. The man had mastered sardonic—he could have given any number of romance novel heroes and villains lessons in sardonic. The odd thing was that every now and then I got the impression that he was looking out for me, regardless of appearances. Like now.

"A week ago—when you were sick—I happened to see a man leaving the castle by way of the roof. Most authorized visitors do not use the roof, so I assumed that he was an enemy and tried to shoot him."

Sasuke had told me about the incident, but something about Mitsuhide's almost off-hand description managed to upset me all over again. Before I could form a coherent protest—didn't anybody around here try the "ask questions first" approach?—Mitsuhide cut me off, his eyes fixed on mine and his hand tightening painfully on my wrist.

"I told you to be quiet. I already know your views on shooting people, and they are irrelevant. Please pay attention to this next bit in particular." I nodded briefly, and his grip loosened again. "Fortunately for the stranger on the roof, the light was very poor, and my shot only grazed him. It surprised me a little that he managed not to fall, but he had strong incentive not to. By the time I reloaded, he had moved out of sight behind an angle of the roof—a significant display of nerve and skill, you must admit, and rather suggestive. Naturally, I gave orders to try to find the man, but I didn't expect any results.

"After instructing the guards where to search and what to look for, I noticed that I was standing at a window very near to your room. I was concerned for your safety"—his half-lidded eyes dared me to comment—"so I checked in on you. As you'll recall, I was surprised that you would have a window open when you had been ill."

I did remember, and I also remembered the way that his unusually breezy manner had contrasted with the way he had studied the room and the open window screen in particular. I hadn't forgotten his final words, either. To be on the safe side, I just nodded, although the hand on my chin didn't let me move far.

"It then occurred to me that everything made much more sense if the stranger on the roof wasn't a _spy_ but a _lover_ —your cheerful foolishness has always struck me as unfeigned. Deceit and betrayal aren't part of your skill set."

"Only you could make that sound like a bad thing," I muttered. My apprehension-fuelled patience was coming to an end, and I was fed up with his snide comments. Instead of telling me off—or worse—for daring to speak, Mitsuhide looked amused.

"Oh no, it's a good thing, at least for you. After all, there is no harm in having a _lover_ sneaking out of your room at dawn. A little cliché, of course, but hardly a threat to the Oda forces."

"So now I'm foolish _and_ cliché?! And he isn't—" I caught myself a moment too late. Normally I'm better prepared for Mitsuhide's questioning technique—make assumptions until people break down and give you information out of sheer annoyance—but to be fair to me, it had been a long and emotional day.

"I know, I know," replied the Slithery One in soothing tones, letting go of my chin and patting me on the head. "He's just a _friend_ , right?"

"I—"

"Or he _was_ , until he told you that he'd been shot, at which point the two of you confessed your true feelings for each other—"

"Stop—"

"Probably in a very sweet, but slightly obscure kind of way—because what is romance without totally unnecessary confusion? Then you indulged in some kind of—"

"Okay, fine, enough, will you just STOP!"

Mitsuhide gave me his patented I-Always-Win-Who-Are-You-Kidding smirk, and finally let go of my wrist. I automatically moved farther into the room, putting some distance between us and doing my best to cool both my temper and my cheeks.

"Now that you are ready to confess to your indiscretions, I think it's only fair to warn you that you may have a guest. Other than me."

I glanced quickly around the room, and then at the closed door and shuttered window. "I don't think of you as a guest, Mitsuhide—"

"Ah—that's right, I'm more like family. An uncle, was it?"

"…I was going to say that a guest implies a person I've _invited_." I sat down on my favourite cushion, suddenly feeling very tired, and politely indicated a cushion nearby for Mitsuhide.

He looked faintly surprised by the courtesy, but sat down with his usual grace. I couldn't deny that he was a very elegant man, for a reptile.

"I believe it's confession time," said the reptile.

"Within limits."

"I make no such guarantees." Mitsuhide's voice was flat and serious, and I felt a tendril of fear return. "Is the man I shot at—and somehow missed—your lover?"

"I"—I felt my face getting red—"I wouldn't necessarily use that exact term but—"

"Then clarify."

"We come from the same place," I said, falling back on the explanation that Sasuke had once given Yukimura. "But we're just friends. At least"—I gestured quickly to forestall the words I imagined forming on his lips—"we _were_ just friends—though I'm not a fan of that expression, to be honest—"

"Yes, I have come to understand how you think. It's delightfully impractical. Sadly, one must occasionally be practical, and this is one of those times. Setting aside a discussion on the importance of platonic love, you and your visitor _were_ friends, but are now lovers."

I hesitated, then decided that this wasn't the time for twenty-first century nuance. Besides, Mitsuhide's earlier comments were finally starting to sink in, and I was beginning to see some of the method behind the madness. Trying to keep any embarrassment under control, I nodded firmly.

"Yes, that's right."

"And you may have cared deeply about each other for some time before being overcome by your mutual feelings—I can imagine it now, although it's rather too sugary for my taste."

"Not enough whips and chains?" I asked sweetly.

"I will fetch some if you wish to indulge," he offered, without missing a beat. His expression was distinctly challenging. My mind froze. I'd broken Mitsuhide Rule Number One—again. Mentally kicking myself, I reached for some water, realized that I hadn't poured any, and just sat there staring at him.

"I suppose that's a no," murmured Mitsuhide, once my literal and figurative squirming had entertained him long enough. "Now back to business. As I said earlier, if I _knew_ that I could capture a spy here in the castle, I would feel constrained to do so. Similar reasoning applies to my actions regarding you."

"Me? I'm not a spy! I thought you all figured that out weeks ago!"

"Still, it must be reconsidered in light of your unauthorized visitor. Fortunately, you've made it abundantly clear—in your own delightful fashion—that your involvement with the man I shot is wholly personal. Therefore, I see no need to convey you to the dungeon for more rigorous questioning. Unless you want me to." The implication made me shiver, and I didn't bother to answer aloud. Mitsuhide feigned disappointment. "Ah well. In any event, I won't let certain others know—Hideyoshi, say—that you may have been entertaining an enemy ninja in Azuchi Castle." He deliberately lingered over the word "entertaining", but I maintained a dignified silence.

"I hope that you understand why I asked your maid to move your belongings. After waiting a week for your visitor to return—and I'm sadly disappointed on your behalf, Chieko, since a truly ardent lover should not be deterred by mere bullets and a potential sixty-foot fall—it was time to shut down all access to the castle and to you. The others will understand that I had you moved as a precaution, since the stranger was in the vicinity of your room."

Again, Mitsuhide gave me a few seconds to mull over his words, and then his thin smile took on an especially sharp edge. "Naturally, I do have a few simple conditions for you in return for overlooking your indiscretion."

He made it sound like I'd had some kind of semi-public fling, but I let it go; I was already waiting for the other shoe to drop. Despite the way I was being toyed with, it had finally gotten through to me that Mitsuhide was doing quite a bit of "overlooking" for my benefit. It was unnerving, since I wasn't sure why. I'd never been able to read him very well, except for fleeting glimpses.

"…What are your conditions?" I felt like I was getting pretty good at the whole 'don't react' thing.

"First, your visitor must give me complete details about his past unauthorized entries. The least he can do to make up for things is to help me improve our security. I don't think it will take him long. It's only a _guess_ of course, but I suspect he's listening to us right now."

"What?!" So much for not reacting—I looked around wildly, including up at the ceiling. No sign of Sasuke.

"I left him a letter in your former room. It obviously didn't occur to you, but if he _is_ fond of you, or even just reasonably protective, then he wouldn't abandon you to the risk of being imprisoned or killed for being a spy, or for associating with one. Not that I have any specific evidence that he's here, or that he read my letter. That would be unfortunate for all of us. But _if_ he behaved as I expected, then he _probably_ followed you to the castle to see how you were received. It's a pity he doesn't work for me—although that could be arranged—he's really quite talented."

"You wrote him a _letter_?"

Mitsuhide sighed. "Of course. I believe it says something like 'Darling, the walls are closing in, but I am lonely without you. I long to show you a different view.' Not very creative, I'm afraid, but a quick mind will get the message, especially since he'll notice that somebody has been exploring the upper rooms and crawl spaces recently. In fact, I undertook the job myself, for various reasons, and it's been very educational. For example, this room is much less accessible than your last one, as it so happens, which means that you are safer here."

 _Basically, it's a very pretty potential cell. And a very dangerous place for Sasuke to visit._

"You should also know that I've ordered work to be done on all of the more obvious access points to this part of the castle, starting after sundown. As long as your visitor—if he happens to be around—leaves the castle before work begins, he'll likely be able to depart in peace."

"Likely?"

"Well, I can't account for everything, can I? He has to take his own risks. I'll just be busy with other things until dinner, as it so happens—though I'll stop by later to see if you happen to have the information I've requested. Now then. Two more things."

"Mm-hm?"

"After this afternoon, if I am in the castle, you are to avoid all contact with your friend. If I see him again, I will shoot him, and I might not miss a second time."

"What?! But—"

"If you don't agree to my condition, then we can end this conversation now."

"Your condition is okay in principle. It's the death threats I find disturbing."

"Good. Next thing then: whenever I'm in Azuchi, you will let me know whenever you leave the castle, unless it is to accompany one of the other Oda warlords."

Ugh.

"How am I supposed to do that? Send a note to your manor? Won't that look strange? Do you really need to know whenever I'm heading out to look at new fabric?"

"Security arrangements generally go through either myself or Hideyoshi. You can let either of us know, although Hideyoshi will believe it's a routine matter—after all, you have been subject to both abduction and attempted abduction before."

"But that was because of the rumour about me and Nobunaga!"

"Are you done complaining? If I learn that you are outside the castle without letting me know, I'll find a simpler way to keep you _safe_."

I took a deep breath and somehow resisted the urge to smack him. "Yes, Lord Mitsuhide. I understand perfectly, Lord Mitsuhide." I injected as much sarcasm as I could into my tone.

"…That's not bad, actually. I may have to reconsider giving you up."

Good grief. "You don't have me in the first place. Could we just get on with this?"

"If we must. Last thing: assume that Lord Nobunaga is aware of the situation. Not only is it true, but it may make you more cautious than usual, if anything can. It's hard to say whether his views on young love are as tolerant as mine. On the other hand, I know that we share similar views on how to treat spies."

Great. My position, and possibly my life, depended on the romantic inclinations of two of the least romantic and most frightening men I'd ever met. I would just have to hope it could all work until Sasuke and I left in a few weeks. I'd been having mixed feelings about leaving, recently, but my desire to return to my own time period had risen quite a bit this afternoon.

"Is there anything else?"

"Not right now. I'll let you know if something occurs to me. Meanwhile, I think I'll go attend to that other business I mentioned. I'll check in on you at sundown to make sure you are taking advantage of a quiet afternoon to enjoy your new room." He stood up, and I automatically rose with him. "Or to enjoy _something_ , anyway." I could practically hear him smirk as he closed the door behind him.

Now what? I was clearly confined to my room, and there was no sign of Sasuke. Not that I wanted him to be there, since it could all be a ruse to catch him. I glanced at my current sewing project, but couldn't bring myself to pick it up. For some reason, it didn't surprise me that my first potentially serious relationship with a genuinely nice guy—who happened to climb buildings and throw _kunai_ like a pro—had landed me under house arrest. I mean, what were the chances of ending up five hundred years in the past to begin with?

"Chieko?"

I turned so quickly that I almost fell over. Then I looked up to see a familiar pair of brown eyes looking down at me from behind a gap in the central ceiling panels.

"Sa"—I swallowed and lowered my voice to a whisper—"Sasuke?"

 **[END of PART I]**

* * *

 **A/Note:** Far too little of our favourite astrophysicist ninja, but Mitsuhide took over and demanded more screen-time. It never pays to ignore Mitsuhide.


	5. Decisions (Indiscretion Part II)

**Author's Note:**

 **WARNING: This chapter is rated M for sexual situations and sexual content.** There's 7500 words of it. Okay, you've been warned.

Written for iamaikotachibana of tumblr, and because I have a total weakness for Sasuke myself. And apparently I enjoy writing Mitsuhide.

I could have posted this sooner, given that it ended up being so long. On the bright side, for those of you impatiently waiting to play Kenshin's route (or between chapter tickets), here's something to read about Kenshin's handler and all-round executive officer. Also, this final (currently final) chapter is fairly hot. ;)

~ Imp

* * *

 **Chapter 5—Decisions (The Price of Indiscretion Part II)**

* * *

He looked a little dishevelled, and his face was even more devoid of emotion than usual, but it was definitely the same man who had kissed me—whom I'd kissed—just two hours earlier. Despite everything, I felt a rush of relief, followed by happiness, and then—I blamed my jailor's parting words—a warm, fluttery, excited feeling that I tried my best to set aside. _Yeah, good luck with that._

A moment later, Sasuke alighted silently on the tatami. His eyes did a brief sweep of the room, and then he crossed to the window, beckoning me to follow. When I came up beside him, he rested a hand on my shoulder and bent down to my ear. Sadly, his words were prosaic.

"Could you open the window screen and look around for me? I don't want to cause even more problems for you."

The second sentence told me that he was berating himself—might even be quite upset—behind that blank face of his. I tried to ignore my reaction to feeling his soft breath on my ear and neck, and slid open the screen as requested. Then I took my first careful look at my surroundings.

As Mitsuhide had implied, my new room was still in the same living area of the castle, which meant that I was three floors up and facing the back of the castle. There was at least one major difference, however; there was only a short, rather steep eave of tiled roof in front of my window, instead of access onto a much wider area with a comfortable slope.

"Sasuke? You can look for yourself—I don't see anyone."

Sasuke nodded, and peered cautiously out through the window. Unlike me, he gave the layout below only a cursory glance before examining the area above. Shortly afterward, he gently closed the wood and paper shade and slid down to sit on the floor, his back against the wall. I sat down awkwardly beside him, unsure what to do. For lack of better ideas, I took the lid off a nearby ceramic jar. The water inside wasn't for drinking; rather, it was designed to help cool the room. I could use whatever cooling was available.

"Roof access from above is difficult, but not impossible," he murmured, mostly to himself. "But one would be very exposed to attack from both above and below. I believe that Lord Mitsuhide is correct: there is only one reasonably usable access route under present circumstances, and it's internal. That's unfortunate."

"Sasuke? Can we talk?"

He slowly lifted his head and met my eyes, but although he appeared as impassive as usual, I could now see a definite flush in his cheeks. Then his brown eyes flicked away and down for a moment, and it appeared to require a significant effort to drag them back.

"Chieko. I owe you an apology. Two apologies, in fact. I hope you will allow me to at least partially redeem myself." He turned so that he was facing me properly, and bowed deeply. It made me feel very uncomfortable, and rather lonely. " _Moushiwake arimasen_ _deshita_."

"Sasuke… Whatever you think you're apologizing for, that's _way_ over the top." I tried to keep my tone even, but half-formed anxieties were swirling through my brain. My inner voice—or saner self?— wasn't impressed. _You're worrying more about this relationship than about having your life controlled by Mitsuhide! Talk about weird priorities and a previously sub-standard dating life._ The whisper in my mind was unaccompanied by Lord Snaky-Smile, but managed to mock me just fine on its own. I pressed on. "No, seriously… Sasuke, if you don't raise your head and start being more twenty-first century boyfriend than sixteenth century ninja, you're really going to start freaking me out."

Sasuke immediately sat up, his eyes wide and just a little panicked—although maybe that was my overactive imagination. He gingerly took my left hand. "So… we're still going out? I wasn't quite sure. It would not be unreasonable for you to change your mind."

"Change my mind?" I repeated, puzzled.

I thought I saw the ghost of a smile cross Sasuke's face. "Most women aren't as resilient as you are when faced with possible imprisonment, torture, and death." He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then added: "Not that I've spoken at length to many women, and none—other than you—who have recently been threatened with those outcomes in my presence. My assumption may be faulty."

"Well, I can't say I'm thrilled about the possible options, but how is it your fault that Mitsuhide has peculiar tastes in recreational activities?"

Sasuke looked away again, although at least he held onto my hand. His response was what I expected—now that I'd thought it through a little.

"Lord Mitsuhide's behaviour is both logical and surprisingly forbearing for this era. He is taking reasonable precautions against being associated with a probable enemy spy should things go wrong. That's much more difficult now that people know he's seen me. He might not have seen me if I'd arrived sooner and left sooner last week. It would have been much less likely, at least. And you wouldn't be under suspicion if he hadn't been able to connect you to me, which was entirely my fault. Among other things, I took a chance by leaving directly through your window. It is only because the Oda warlords hold you in such high regard that you are still relatively free. Unless Lord Mitsuhide has ulterior motives."

I was going to point out that Mitsuhide _always_ had ulterior motives, but something told me that Sasuke already knew that.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were going to follow me here?" I asked. "Mitsuhide wasn't wrong when he said that it was very risky for you. Maybe if I'd known, it would have gone better."

Sasuke shifted uncomfortably. "Well… I don't know quite how to say this, but your expression tends to lend itself to openness and honesty—which I admire. However, since I was still hoping to find a way in to see you undetected, I wanted any watchers to assume that you were on your own."

I sighed. "You thought my expression, or whatever, would give you away. Fine. At least you put it more nicely than Mitsuhide. You know, if this is going to be the last time I get to see you for a while, then maybe we could at least sit together for a few minutes?" _Do you realize how much you care about this man? Is it getting through to you?_

"I'm supposed to be putting together a list of my previous comings and goings. You'll be safer when that's done." I couldn't tell what Sasuke was thinking, but his answer disappointed me. Not that he was wrong, but he'd been a lot more passionate, and a lot less reserved, earlier in the afternoon. Then I told myself to get a grip and be reasonable—the situation had changed since then.

"Oh." I tried for neutral, but it still came out sounding sad.

Sasuke's gaze sharpened, and he scrutinized my face intently. I thought I saw or sensed surprise under the stoic mask. Before I could say anything further, he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed each finger in turn, before pulling me into his lap and cradling me against his chest. As before, his heartbeat wasn't nearly as calm as his expression. I snuggled as close as I could, curling my free hand into his tunic. It was a relief, despite the heat. _Note to self: I think I'm falling in love. When did this happen? By return memo: Duh. And work on the meaning of the word 'falling'; we discussed this._

"I wasn't sure what you thought of me, after my inappropriate behaviour with you earlier…" His voice was subdued, and he sounded even guiltier than he had when he'd apologized for getting me into trouble with Mitsuhide and possibly the other Oda warlords.

"Inappropriate behaviour?" I was genuinely confused, and not sure how to react.

"I meant to kiss you, not attack you. Having you fall on me clouded my judgement. I'm very sorry about that. I had hoped to strike a balance between being boldly assertive—as recommended by Lord Shingen—and being respectful of your comfort and boundaries, which is just… just… the right thing to do… Chieko?"

He probably stopped because I was doing my best to remind him that whatever we'd done, we'd done it together. Specifically, I was running my fingers over his neck and upper chest, and liking what I found. He was probably the world's most athletic geek, and he was mine—except for a bit of unfortunate overthinking. Yes, Mitsuhide could theoretically have us arrested, or impounded, or whatever the right word was. But he'd given us until sundown, and that was still quite a ways off. He—Mitsuhide—was undeniably a master at intrigue and deception, and would probably lie sooner than tell the truth, but I was going to bet on him keeping his word within the boundaries he'd set out.

I looked up when Sasuke ran out of words. "You managed boldly assertive very well," I assured him, fingers still stroking the skin just below his collar bone. "And my boundaries appear to be very flexible around you." Or pretty much non-existent. "I'll have you know that I turned down Lord Nobunaga himself—although Hideyoshi almost killed me for objecting to his grabby hands. Nobunaga's hands, I mean."

"Yes… you told me about that. It made me anxious for you—given the more or less absolute rights of high-ranking samurai in this era—but you managed the Oda warlords quite well after that. I still don't know—"

Before he could finish the sentence, I pressed my finger against his lips.

"We don't have unlimited time. You've got to be out of here before sundown—by a reasonable margin so that I don't have a heart attack—and I'm determined to get Mitsuhide to let me resume my normal duties after that. Plus, before you go, you have a list to write."

"…I take it that you're willing to take the chance that Lord Mitsuhide is telling the truth?" I couldn't blame him for sounding dubious.

"About staying out of my—this—room for the rest of the afternoon? Yes. But you're clearly in more danger than I am, so it's your call. What do you want to do? I'm absolutely certain that one way or another you'll get us to Kyoto in time to catch our wormhole home. If you want to write up your note for Mitsuhide, and then figure out the quickest, safest way to leave, I'm good with that." I wouldn't like it very much, and my body wasn't onside at all, but I could be sensible. Probably. Being this close was giving me all sorts of ideas.

Sasuke's stoic demeanour was cracking. He looked visibly conflicted.

"I don't want to make things worse, and they could be much worse. At the same time, I don't want to let go of you. A number of Lord Mitsuhide's actions and comments made me very uncomfortable—about your safety. However, it was clear to me that I had to remain silent; I hypothesize that he was testing my discretion as well as exploring your motives."

"It's okay. I wasn't expecting you to jump out of the ceiling to defend me."

Sasuke was suddenly looking down at me from close quarters, hands on my shoulders and eyes narrowed, as if my words had triggered something that he'd been trying to suppress. This time there was no conflict in his expression, only frustration verging on anger.

"Whether you were expecting me or not, I did want to defend you. I didn't like the way he handled and threatened you." Sasuke's hands tightened on my shoulders. It was finally making sense to me now how a number of Mitsuhide's comments had been aimed at provoking Sasuke, not just me. "I wonder if I've been here too long," he continued. "It wasn't easy to stay hidden. I had to remind myself that you would not appreciate any unnecessary violence, and that I could intervene if something drastic happened—at least for long enough for you to escape."

"Oh no, no, no… We are not going to discuss you sacrificing yourself or anything like that. Nobody dies, and in four or five weeks, we go home."

Sasuke stared at me from behind his glasses, and then his lips twitched briefly into a classic Sasuke smile, complete with hints of humour, self-deprecation, and shyness. "Sorry. That was melodramatic on my part. "

"This whole era is melodrama, isn't it? Though I do my best to keep things moderately normal." I was babbling. The smile was turning me to mush and heating me up all over at the same time. Why wasn't he—oh.

My eyes closed and I drew in a long, deep breath when my hair was brushed aside and warm lips closed gently on my temple, and then trailed kisses down toward my jaw. I wanted to tell him "Good choice, I wanted you to stay," but it came out as something embarrassing like "Finally."

"I couldn't resist," Sasuke murmured in the vicinity of my ear, sounding slightly defensive. "The most rational choice by a significant margin is to leave as soon as possible, but I wanted to kiss you again and your expression..." His teeth gently worried at my lower lip, and one of his hands found its way to the back of my head to pull me closer. I could feel his body tensing against me and under me. "You looked like you wanted—"

"You weren't wrong…" I turned a little and leaned into the kiss, feeling his tongue slip between my lips and the slight hitch in his breath when I shifted further so that I could wrap my arms around his neck.

As though we had all the time in the world at our disposal, we made the most of this kiss, parting to breathe, but never for long. Soft, deep, longing— _loving?_ —kisses; harder, deeper, passionate kisses. Our problems became a hazy blur in my mind, not quite forgotten but worth putting aside for as long as possible.

"I don't pick very good times for this," Sasuke said eventually, looking slightly drunk, and very much the opposite of cool and collected. I tried to find it endearing—I mean, it _was_ —but my mind was more focused on things like "too many damn clothes" and "don't care if somebody walks in so help me…"

"When in the Sengoku," I reminded him, leaning back a little to watch his face.

"Jeopardizing our safety for a kiss?"

"I can totally imagine Masamune saying it was worth it." Not that he would stop with a kiss, if he could get away with it. …Heaven help me I was citing Masamune as a role model.

"Date Masamune is one of the most powerful warlords of this time."

"So? He said you were an excellent ninja—and a surprisingly strong swordsman—as I recall. That's very high praise."

"Yes. While I remain loyal to my current employer—"

"Who is clearly mentally unstable."

"—It is gratifying to have job offers from both Lord Masamune and Lord Mitsuhide."

He _sounded_ calm, but he wasn't, and I didn't want him to be. Problem was, I knew that his head was still in conflict with the rest of him. I'd been there before and recognized the symptoms, even on a super-stoic astrophysicist-ninja. But I'd been listening to his heartbeat, and I was sitting in his lap. Some reactions weren't so easy to hide.

"Sasuke? You always worry about me, but what do _you_ want? I said it was up to you, but you never really answered." His face was already flushed, but his cheeks darkened further. That suggested possibilities that were far more appealing than they should be—given the time and place, and our very new relationship. _You must really, really like this guy if a blush is turning you on—turning you on_ more _, that is._ I didn't bother to argue.

"I should… prioritize our safety." Sasuke's voice was low-pitched and tense. "There is no rush, probably. For us, I mean. I expect to survive any immediate battles."

"Okay, I guess. But you're dodging the question. Again." I ran my fingers over Sasuke's face, tracing his features and lingering on his mouth, before moving to the line of his jaw. It wasn't playing fair, but Mitsuhide—and Nobunaga, and Masamune, and even mother-hen Hideyoshi—had taught me that life in the Sengoku was pretty much anything _but_ fair, so you had to make up your mind and take some chances. In fact, there weren't any guarantees in modern-day Japan either, just better percentages. Or was I just rationalizing my behaviour? _If you need to ask that question…_

"…I'm not very good with words." Sasuke's eyes had half-closed, but he opened them in order to study my face again. His gaze still retained a measure of its usual piercing inquiry.

"I don't know about that—you're pretty eloquent on the subject of ground spikes."

I let my hands rest on Sasuke's shoulders, leaving myself open to his scrutiny. I felt pretty self-conscious—who wouldn't?—well, other than about half the Oda warlords, who just didn't _do_ self-conscious—wait, where was I? _Trying not to totally throw yourself at the cute ninja while he's in danger of torture and death? Or maybe trying to incite the cute ninja to throw himself at you instead, so that you don't feel quite so guilty about it? …Which isn't very nice._ I was reluctantly acknowledging the uncomfortable possibility of the latter, when the cute ninja took my face in an almost crushing grip and kissed me breathless.

 _Oh wow._ In that instant, I caught a glimpse of how Sasuke had accomplished so much in four years: when he was focussed, he was _driven_. His mouth was greedy on mine, demanding everything, and stealing away every breath and soft moan. I found myself on the tatami under him, with no clear memory of having gotten there and no desire to be anywhere else. Hands as strong as Mitsuhide's—and just as unyielding—held my wrists to the floor by my head. Unlike earlier in the afternoon, I was conscious of having willingly ceded control to somebody a lot stronger and heavier than I was. It was as if I kept having to relearn that Sasuke was a lot more than an awkward Sengoku fanboy cosplaying a sixteenth-century ninja. My body knew it, my heart knew it— _wait what?_ —but my brain persisted in seeing an attractive but awkward grad student.

My lips were abraded and swollen by the time I was allowed to breathe freely again, but it was sensation and need that had choked off my ability to form words. I managed a sound between a moan and a whimper when the next hard kiss found the soft skin just below my left ear and immediately became an insistent, skin-breaking bite. Instead of moving on, as he had with my collarbone earlier in the afternoon, Sasuke continued to deepen the bruise.

"Nnnnnngggh… Sa-suke?" I spoke his name in a hoarse whisper, and his mouth lifted from my neck. A moment later, he let go of my wrists and sat back on his heels, across my hips. When I looked up at him, I saw a kind of grim satisfaction lurking behind the heat in his eyes. His breathing was ragged, and when he spoke, his voice was darker and rougher than it had been before. Maybe I should have been upset, but all I felt was curiosity and rapidly escalating desire.

"…He kept touching you. He deliberately set out to intimidate you by physically restraining you and compelling your obedience. A standard interrogation technique, of course; I know that. I can't fault his reasoning or execution. But the way he went about it—the way he held you and forced you to look at him…" Sasuke took a deep breath, and then scrubbed a hand across his forehead, wiping away sweat and hiding his expression.

He sounded a little more like himself when he spoke next, but still keyed up. "I know that jealousy is a pointless, even reprehensible emotion. Also, being possessive is neither logical, nor appropriate, although it is a common failing. …I never expected to feel this way." The last words were spoken mostly to himself. I found him strangely unapologetic, given his usual courteous and considerate behaviour. Something or someone—probably a mind-reading snake—had pushed buttons that I'd never even considered in relation to Sasuke.

I stared up at him, and lifted a hand to my neck. That was going to be one hell of a bruise, although adrenaline and endorphins were more than compensating for any discomfort. And he'd done it partly—or more than partly—to get back at Mitsuhide in some way? Or as a warning? _More like a mark; stop avoiding the thought._ The suspicion that I should be concerned about his motivation grew—but I was having trouble thinking much past the weight across my hips. There was nothing mild or dispassionate about the expression on Sasuke's face right now, and that just made me want him more. It was ridiculous, and possibly dangerous, and I didn't need a voice in my head to tell me—again—that the time and place were all wrong.

Sasuke's fingers brushed damp tendrils of hair from my face and rested briefly on my cheek. The gesture wasn't, in itself, suggestive, but there was heat in every contact now, and muscles tightened from my abdomen to my thighs, responsive to his shift in weight. Ridiculous or not, dangerous or not—

"Are you sure you aren't upset with me about this?" he asked suddenly. The fingers skimmed along the fabric covering the line of bruises on my collarbone, and my skin quivered in reaction.

"Positive." I kept my voice as steady as I could. Was he really still worried about that or was there something else? I couldn't tell.

"Or for letting you get trapped here by Lord Mitsuhide?" And very softly: "Without stepping in to help."

"I'm sure. In fact, I'm a lot more worried about y—"

"If you want me to go, you'll have to say so."

I drew in a sharp breath at the uncompromising words, and then all but stopped breathing. I hadn't noticed him unfastening the upper ties of my summer-weight kimono and sheer under-kimono. His hand was now pressed flat against the skin between my breasts. Only my obi, fastened tightly with a bow in the back, held the thin silk and gauzy linen partially closed. Whatever happened now, there was no opium to excuse it.

I licked my lips and swallowed, knowing that he could feel my heart pounding, and the heat of my skin. "I… don't know if I can send you away," I whispered. All of my attention was focused on his hand—strong and lean, a little more calloused than I'd realized; no longer the hand of a twenty-first century grad student. He probably used or trained with a weapon every day. "I should, though." I finally raised my eyes to his, feeling desperately torn. I never should have teased him earlier; I should have known, or guessed, that feelings ran deep with him.

His expression was… I'd never seen or imagined him with that look. Intense, reckless, burning—completely committed to his current path despite knowing the potential costs.

"…You asked me what I wanted. I want to touch you. As much and as far as you'll allow. I want us to be lovers, whatever that means to you. You told Lord Mitsuhide that we weren't exactly lovers, and you only recanted under duress. So tell me"—his free hand set his glasses aside and deftly unwound and discarded the green cowl that sat like a scarf on his shoulders—"what will it take?"

 _Oh…_ _Oh sweet gods and goddesses…_ Some part of my mind registered that he'd been hurt by my denial, and I truly regretted that. The rest of me felt his words like a jolt to every lust-inflamed nerve-ending, and I swear my vision blurred. Sasuke had never lost sight of his promise to get me back to the modern day safe and sound, and he'd risked himself time and again to look out for me. But he really wanted this—wanted me—in the here and now.

"I was wrong." My voice wasn't working properly, so I cleared my throat.

Sasuke just kept watching me, both patient and impatient. Focused. The hand on my chest was heavy, even without weight behind it; I wondered if he felt the same heat from that connection as I did.

"I was wrong—about not being lovers. I'm so sorry." I meant it. I'd known better since we first kissed. "Mitsuhide always winds me up, and—"

"Leave him out of this."

 _Right._ "Sasuke…" My head was still playing catch-up with my body, but was no longer so far behind. "You've done as much as anyone could do. You don't need to do more, of prove something, I swear. And"—I reached out to touch his arm, sliding my hand along bone and sinew—"I want what you want."

"The time is wrong… and the place is wrong… We both know that." But his hand moved, caressing the soft curve of one breast through the fine silk.

"Mmmmm… True…" I arched my back and felt my toes curl, just in anticipation of feeling his touch directly on my skin.

"And I can't promise—I don't have—" He caught my head as it fell back, bending down to kiss my lips as his fingers traced circles around a nipple that was already tight with arousal. When he let his palm slide over it and around it, I moaned, and then bit my lip in an effort not to be so loud. I pressed myself upward into his hand, and even more tightly against his hips. The angle was wrong; I couldn't alleviate the heat and tension coiled within the wet folds of overheated skin surrounding both my core and the sensitive bundle of nerves that ached most for a lover's touch.

"What—are—you… nnnggggghhhh…" More slowly than I wanted, Sasuke's hand slid under the still-confining fabric of my kimono and began to stroke the sensitive, sensitized skin beneath; I could feel the tension in his fingers now, and the slight tremor in his body that spoke of forced restraint in the face of overwhelming desire and emotion.

It felt strange to be so vulnerable in front of him, and there wasn't even the cover of darkness to alleviate the feeling. I'd always tried to seem as confident as possible when he'd dropped by, as a matter of pride and so that he wouldn't worry. But now I was almost shaking with need, and pride was crumbling before lust. _Good to know the sins have their uses…_ Even my snarky inner voice was less than coherent.

"Do you think… you could see me—just me—despite the others?" The words were halting, even as he continued to caress my skin. My whole body was burning, aching to be touched more; my hands, balked of the ability to reciprocate, kept reaching out to him, trying to draw him closer. I couldn't understand what he was trying to tell me. "I want you, all of you—even at the wrong time… and in the… wrong place." He turned his attention to my other breast, pushing the fabric roughly aside this time. "Will you have me?" His fingers stroked and teased the hard bud of the nipple until I finally managed to wrench him down on top of me so that I could kiss him—lips, throat, chest.

"…Stupid, clingy, ninja clothes…" The tunic was knitted as well as belted—impossible to remove without real effort. I gave up and twisted my hands in Sasuke's hair, kissing him as hard, as demandingly as he'd kissed me before. I loved the feeling of his body on mine, although the hard length of his cock against my thigh was at once exciting and a reminder that there were still decisions to make that I wanted to ignore.

"Chieko." Sasuke grabbed my upper arms, pinning me to the floor and propping himself up on his elbows. "You need to understand—"

"Whatever it is—"

"You are surrounded by powerful men. And I'm not—Oda Nobunaga, or Toyotomi Hideyoshi, or Tokugawa Ieyasu… Or the _kitsune_ , Akechi." The way he said the last name suggested that he wasn't a fan.

"He's more of a snake," I muttered.

"Chieko…"

"Sasuke, I'm all yours. You're going to have to take my word for it, and trust your judgment. That's how it goes."

He buried his face in my chest, wrapping his arms around my waist. Then he found my breast with his mouth, and let his tongue caress the nipple. I clutched at his hair, moaning; how could he not understand what he was doing to me? Or maybe he did. I was already a panting, needy mess by the time he turned his attention to my other breast, still pinning my lower body under his, his strong arms holding me still when I started to writhe.

When he looked up at last, he had the feverish look from before.

"Clothes…"

"Mm-hm." Finally!

I watched with lust-induced unselfconsciousness as Sasuke sat back on his heels and stripped off belt, tunic, and kimono-shirt. It was absolutely worth the wait, I decided, entranced by his sure, swift movements, and the lean torso and tightly-toned arms that emerged from all the fabric. Muscles and tendons stood out in sharp definition under the mostly-smooth skin, and I longed to be able to touch him, to run my hands over it all.

Sure enough, there was a barely-healed wound on his lower ribs, which still looked painful, although Sasuke had evinced no trace of pain in any of his movements. Then I noticed that the forming scar was hardly the only one there. Impelled by concern, my eyes traced the lines—some faint and white, others more puckered. What the hell had happened to him?

I suddenly realized that Sasuke had stopped moving, and was sitting quite still, watching my face. I loved how he looked, stripped to the waist, flushed with desire, and need raced through me all over again—to be held against him, skin to skin, with nothing between us. He looked away for a moment, then shrugged in something like embarrassment, still not quite meeting my eyes.

"I just wasn't fast enough, when I first got here. I underestimated the training required. That's all. I'm fine now. Please don't worry about it."

"That's not going to work for me, but I can put off worrying for a while longer."

"…Thank you." There was real relief in his tone, and then he rose and stood me on my feet in order to first unfasten, and then unwind, my pretty obi. My kimono, free of the belt and already most of the way off my shoulders, slid to the floor and pooled around my feet. In the custom of the time—as strange as it had been, at first—I wore no undergarments other than the under-kimono, and it clung to me for only a moment before following both obi and kimono. For the first time that day, shyness overtook desire, and I was glad to be facing away.

Sasuke's arm wound around me from behind, and a hand brushed my tumbled hair forward off my shoulders so that we were finally skin-to-skin. Desire came flooding back, heat radiating from the place where his arm held me just under my breasts. Then his lips touched my ear, warm and soft and almost too gentle. I clung tightly to his arm, my head falling back against his chest. The sensation on my ear grew stronger, as lips were joined by tongue and teeth. I felt my knees start to buckle, and the rise and fall of Sasuke's chest against my back sped up, his breath becoming more of a rasp. When his free hand moved from exploring the curve on my waist and hip to caressing my breast, I moaned aloud despite myself, and tried to turn so that I could allow my hands free rein over my lover's skin. I didn't get my way, and it was almost too much.

"Sasuke…" His name came out in a rough whisper. I tried again. "Sasuke… please…" The muscles within my core kept contracting, and I was already so wet with desire. I couldn't imagine more sensation, but I craved it in order to find some kind of release. "Touch me everywhere, let me touch you, please…"

I felt, as much as heard, the sharp hiss of indrawn breath, and then the arm around my ribs slid to my waist. After the barest hesitation, warm fingers began to stroke the soft skin of my lower belly, fingertips brushing across the top of the curls of damp hair concealing my most sensitive, most intimate places. I really did stumble then, but I was suddenly picked up and cradled in Sasuke's arms, and held tightly to his chest.

"Chieko… I want you even more than I imagined… I want all of you… But—"

I pulled his head down to mine, kissing the words from his lips, winding my tongue in his. A very short time later, I was gently laid down on something soft—my futon?—and I finally got most of my wish. Almost as soon as I touched the cool linen, Sasuke's weight settled against me, and a leg wound over mine. His lips once again found my mouth, and ear, and neck, as though he couldn't get enough of kissing me and tasting my skin. I pressed myself closer to him, and then ran my hands through his hair, and across his broad shoulders, and down his side, careful of the injury that he seemed to so completely disregard. As soon as his mouth left mine, I set my lips and teeth against his skin and set about marking him as he'd marked me earlier in the afternoon.

"Chieko."

"Mmmm… But it's my turn…" While my mouth teased and sucked and nipped at his skin, my hand trailed down to trace around his hip bone, and then lower still, to slide over the taught muscle of his outer thigh. I was gratified by a distinct, involuntary tremor at my touch. He was still only half-undressed though, which seemed unfair.

"Chieko—wait. How far… I need to know… I can't promise..." To my surprise, Sasuke set his hands on my shoulders and pushed me far enough away that he could see my face. Had I done something wrong?

"Hmm?" Despite my concern, I smiled to see him there beside me, his face no longer expressionless, his skin bare and warm and inviting to the touch. I hadn't really forgotten our situation, but it felt remote, and I hoped it would stay that way for a while longer. "Okay. I'll listen. Promise." I started to reach out again, then pulled back my hand. Was it weird how much I liked touching him?

"Thanks." He pushed damp hair back from his forehead, and then slid his down from my shoulder to my hip.

"That's… not helping. If you want me to listen, I mean."

"Right." He carefully stilled his hand, and visibly collected himself, looking aside in the way that he so often did. When he looked up again, his face was nearly devoid of expression for the first time in quite a while. "…There's no adequate method here… not really… of birth control." He kept his eyes steady on mine, and if he was embarrassed it didn't show. That helped, to a point, sort of. "That doesn't mean—that is, there are other ways… to be together."

Of course there were. And I wanted to explore those possibilities—just not right this moment. What I wanted, more than anything, was for us to be as close as we could possibly be, to have him within me, to feel that intense pleasure together, if we could manage it. Part of me was frustrated—almost irritated—that Sasuke hadn't just allowed me—us—to let passion get the better of good sense. It would have been easier. Then it hit me that it was deep, consistent concern and affection— _that's a pretty weak word, are you serious?_ —for me that had made him push me to make a clear decision.

"…Chieko?" The level tone now held a hint of anxiety. "I should have said something sooner—I did try—but that seemed… presumptuous… And it's been difficult to think straight." Yes, yes it had.

"Sasuke." I whispered his name, not out of a need to be quiet, but because I was trying to come to terms with how much he meant to me.

He pulled me close again, and I lay there for a moment, soaking in his warmth.

"You don't—you won't—regret taking a chance?" I asked.

"No." The answer was quick, firm, absolutely certain. I felt my heart pound against my ribs.

"Then… even though it's… totally cliché"— _and you know what, dear Snake? cliché isn't so bad_ —"take me, I'm yours." I couldn't help a grin, all of a sudden elated with life, and laughing at myself for using such an old line, at such a time, and meaning every word of it.

"I—really?" The hopeful surprise in Sasuke's voice just made me want to laugh more, for some reason. When he suddenly pinned me under him, and pressed his forehead to mine, I saw that that he was smiling, although the desire was vivid in the flush on his cheeks and around his eyes. "…I hope you're prepared—I won't go easy on you."

"No—Sasuke—seriously? Anime again?"

But that was as far as I got, as first my mouth was claimed, and then everything else. Feverish hands stroked my body—arms, sides, breasts, hips, belly, thighs—and finally, finally, caressed and explored the slick, wet folds guarding my core. _Oh sweet gods… oh fuck… oh wow…_ My blood roared in my ears, and instead of being able to reciprocate his touch, I felt my head go back with a wordless, desperate moan.

My hips writhed, utterly beyond my control, when fingers slid inside me, tentatively at first but then with greater assurance, stroking my slick inner walls until my muscles began to convulse. More heat—how was that even possible—and then overwhelming, aching sensation, as the pad of his thumb found and rubbed the tight, engorged bundles of nerves at the very apex of my slit.

"Mmmmmm—nnnnnngghhhhhh—Sa-suke—need you—want you—so much…"

A short—but too-long—pause—and then hand and fingers returned, and his mouth suckled a breast, while one leg hooked tightly around mine as if to close whatever gap was possible. His cock, hard and already wet, pressed deep into my thigh, and somewhere among all the rest, I registered intense satisfaction at knowing that we were both finally, completely naked together, skin to skin in the most intimate way.

Sasuke finally shifted, trailing kisses up my chest and neck to my mouth. He was back on top of me again, breathing heavily, eyes unfocussed. My hands clung to his back, fingers tight on his skin, as he ground himself against me. I couldn't hear my own moaning, whimpering sounds for the blood rushing in my ears.

His mouth moved from my lips and neck to my ear.

"Now? Is that… okay?"

"Okay? Yes… any time—please—" I squirmed against him, so wet I would have been embarrassed if I hadn't been completely past rational—or even irrational—thought.

I felt the head of his cock slide over trembling, pulsing folds, press hard against the tight entrance to my core. Then with a low groan that goaded my arousal to desperation, he thrust into me, hard and deep, holding nothing back. I know I cried out, my fingers clawing at his skin as I tried to pull him in ever farther, and deeper. _Make me yours_ , I whispered to him in my mind, _and be mine. I want everything you have to give._ Then there was nothing left in the world but the need to move together, reaching for and claiming every sweeping wave of pleasure, every intense, scorching moment of our bodies joined together.

When I reached my limit, orgasm overtaking and drowning all other sensation, I found his name on my lips like a prayer, and it tasted sweet and familiar. _Sasuke… I think… No, I know… I love you. I cherish you. I want to be with you no matter what. How did this happen to me?_ My body shuddered around him, and my teeth closed on his shoulder. A moment later, I felt his release within me, hot and hard, all rhythm overset by the short, wild thrusts of climax. His cry was incoherent, his face vulnerable in passion. _I love you—I just didn't know, before. I'm happy, so happy that I got to find out._ I felt tears on my cheeks, from the still pulsing, overwhelming release, and from emotional overload.

Fingers, strong and competent, brushed away the tears. Sasuke kissed me softly, first on the corner of one eye, then on the cheek, and finally on the lips.

"Chieko—please—please tell me that I didn't hurt you in any way…"

The anxiety in his voice brought me back to myself and reality.

"No… not at all… no. I feel wonderful. Maybe a bit overwhelmed with—with everything. I think we should stay together forever." The last part slipped out unbidden.

To my surprise, Sasuke's response came immediately. "We will." Then he rolled onto his back, pulling me with him to lie in the hollow of his shoulder, bodies still touching all along my length. "I hope you won't mind too much."

I laughed, still quivering and euphoric. "No… And you can show me the stars."

"Yes. Although in point of fact I'm studying astrophysics, not astronomy. …Looking at the stars is just a hobby."

"That's fine, I've noticed you're pretty good at your hobbies."

"Chieko?"

"Mm-hm?"

"I couldn't say this earlier—or rather, I didn't want you to think it was just… a line." I went still, my eyes fixed on his profile. He turned his head, his brown eyes clear and calm. "I love you." He shrugged awkwardly—especially awkwardly since I was lying on one shoulder. "You may already know that, but I wanted to tell you anyway."

 _On the off chance that you're spying on us, Mitsuhide, I hope this is causing cavities. But… thank you for giving me this. Because I think you did. Maybe. Did you have to shoot my boyfriend first, though?_

"This is a pretty good anime," I told Sasuke, finally finding the energy to prop myself up on his—very, very nice—chest. "I'm no expert, but aren't we short a few totally-avoidable misunderstandings and one unnecessary parting?"

"And several interfering friends who try to help but just make things worse. And rain. The next time it rains I'll come find you so that we can kiss in the rain." He sounded thoughtful. Very Sasuke. I gave up on staring into his face and snuggled into him instead.

After several blissful minutes, I finally looked over at the light filtering in around the window-screen. It wasn't fair... I sat up, only a little shy about my tumbled hair and naked body. I let my hand wander over the planes of Sasuke's chest, trying not to think too hard about the scars on his sides, arms, and—now visible—legs. There weren't as many as I'd thought, and he'd obviously made his peace with them. Then I leaned over to kiss his lips.

"You're probably trying to figure out how to say that you have to go without making it sound like you want to go," I told him. "But it's okay. Despite how things went—which I can't regret—I really do want you to be safe."

"…Thank you." Sasuke trapped my hand against his chest, but didn't otherwise move. "We've still got well over an hour until sunset, although I wish it were more. It won't take me long to write a concise report for Lord Mitsuhide—I'm good at reports."

"Oh?" My attempt at being cool and practical was sabotaged by my treacherous body.

"I want to make love to you again."

He said it quietly, but decisively, and I felt my heartbeat rise along with the heat in my cheeks. When he pulled me down on top of him, I went willingly.

 **[END—FOR NOW]**

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 **A/Note:** I always appreciate feedback (I prefer positive feedback, but constructive ideas for improvement are good too, promise). I'm new to writing for IkeSen, though not writing. Requests are currently closed, but I have plans for a Masamune fic, a Masamune-Mitsuhide drabble, and hopefully some Kenshin. We'll see. I have other writing to catch up on!


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